


Where Pain Belongs

by FlyOnTheWall14



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Cass be gay, Cass is angsty, Post-Season/Series 03, Rapunzel be bi?, Rapunzel is nosy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlyOnTheWall14/pseuds/FlyOnTheWall14
Summary: Rapunzel has been visiting Cassandra's room for months now since her departure from Corona. Often, she would simply lay in her bed or sort through her weapons and trinkets she had left behind, thinking up a story behind how she came to own each one. How she had not seen it before was a mystery; Cassandra had crumpled it, shoved it somewhere out of sight and forgotten it - as she did with all her pain.
Relationships: Cassandra/Rapunzel (Disney: Tangled), Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider/Rapunzel
Comments: 16
Kudos: 89





	Where Pain Belongs

The letter she held in her hand simultaneously filled her belly with butterflies and punched her in the gut. It was tragic; she had not meant to find it – most definitely was not _supposed_ to find it.

She could not believe it. The hand in which it was written was certainly Cassandra’s – familiar from her days as Rapunzel’s lady-in-waiting when she used to make note of Rapunzel’s schedule for her. But the words. The words seemed someone else’s entirely.

It was not that Rapunzel doubted Cassandra’s way with words – and a way with them she did have – but… the letter was so open, so raw, it was hard to believe it could have been written by her brash and quick-witted, ‘I don’t do feelings’ friend. And Rapunzel despaired at the words; for all the times she had asked Cassandra to share her feelings, she had never expected to find them laid out for her to see quite so literally. Yet despite the open nature, there were so many parts of it where she could feel Cassandra pulling on her own emotional leash; constantly, Rapunzel felt Cassandra dragging herself back into a safer place so as not to share too much.

Parts were eloquent and parts were rushed. Parts were crossed out though with no real desire to conceal the thought. Parts were neat and cursive, and parts were barely legible scribbles. Each facet of her person came pouring out and scrawled themselves across the page – unwilling to bear being hidden any longer. In cursive, the lady-in-waiting, the friend, the protector. In the mess, the scorned soldier, the abandoned daughter, the hurting woman that needed to be heard. Despite being written with such feeling, Rapunzel could hear how Cassandra would have admonished herself for her honesty and crossed it out.

As she read, she wished she had not. Such a violation of Cassandra’s privacy made her feel sick but some small part of her relished the rare insight into her best friend’s thoughts. It was not like it was a private journal; it was a note, crumpled and long forgotten in the back of Cassandra’s _war_ drobe.

_~~Dear Rapun~~ _

_~~Hey, Raps~~ _

_~~Rapunzel, liste~~ _

_Dear Rapunzel,_

_~~I won’t lie, I’m completely lost here.~~ I am not entirely sure what I wish to achieve through writing this, but I am willing to let the words take me where they will – to try this ‘bearing my emotions’ thing you keep talking about. ~~There is truth buried within me that I wish to share, and I have come to realise~~ I know that I have put you through so much these past months and I am truly ~~ashamed~~ sorry for everything I have done. This isn’t easy for me; feelings are just ~~feelings are shit~~_

_I’m trying to write ~~this from the heart~~ – ~~yes, I have one~~ – the truth; I’m trying to listen to my feelings, but it all feels wrong. I want it to show you how ~~angry~~ frustrated I am. Instead, it sounds syrupy and proper – something political that I’ve written on my father’s behalf. It doesn’t feel right – doesn’t feel true. ~~It still feels like I’m lying so as not to hurt your feelings and I hate myself for not being honest with you.~~ I cannot ever express to you the thoughts which I write in these pages. Once I am done attempting to muddle through my catastrophic mess of thoughts, these pages will have served their purpose and I shall burn them. ~~They will burn in the fire fuelled by the same guilt and fear that burns my insides.~~ These pages – and my heart – hold secrets so guilty that I do not wish for you, nor anyone else, to ever find them. ~~That’s part of the reason I have to go; I can’t stand to be around you and keep lying.~~_

_~~If I had not been such a coward~~ ~~If I could have been honest with myself~~. ~~I could have been honest~~ ~~with you. Maybe I could have been had I trusted myself not to get carried away; if I could have told you the truth and dealt with the disgust in your eyes, maybe it could have been different. If I didn’t care what you thought, I could have told you sooner. But I was scared – still am scared. So, I waited and waited and waited in the vain hope that it would go away. That I could forget every night I tossed and~~ ~~turned with you in my dreams. That I could forgive myself for wanting such things from you. And yet, in my ignorance, I waited and waited, scared and silent. Scared and stupid.~~_

_~~I was scared and stupid~~. ~~But I’m done waiting.~~ ~~I’m~~ ~~I need to inform you that~~ ~~Writing this is so fucking hard.~~_

_There are things I want to tell you that I really don’t want to tell you, and it’s making my ~~heart hurt~~ head spin with all the back and forth. As much as I no longer wish to bear the weight of these secrets, I find myself clinging to them in much the same way I find myself clinging to you and to Corona; I don’t want to leave without telling you, but I am thinking that I must. I’m starting to think self-expression just isn’t for me… you know? I just keep writing and writing and it’s all bullshit – I just want to tell you and I can’t. Why is this so fucking hard? ~~You remember when you got painter’s block? I can only imagine that to be somewhat similar to how the words I truly wish to write will not allow themselves to be written~~. You wear your heart on your sleeve every day; why can I not manage it for five minutes – is that too much to ask?_

_~~I really~~ ~~There are many~~ There are a lot of things I ~~love~~ respect about you, ~~Raps~~ Rapunzel. Despite everything I’ve done, you still show me kindness and it ~~makes me sick~~ fills me with guilt. For what I’ve done, I deserve so much less; and you know it’s true. Though you may have ~~turned the other cheek~~ forgiven me for my transgressions, I may never forgive myself. _

_~~For months, Zhan Tiri and I plotted to~~ I planned to do such terrible things. Thoughts filled my head of hurting the people I had grown up with – harming them and my home. ~~Betraying a father that had come to love me despite knowing to whom I belonged.~~ Thoughts of you. Hurting you. Zhan Tiri whispered such awful things about you – tried to fill my head with so many truly horrid thoughts of you. ~~But I had plenty of my own~~ – ~~albeit of a vastly different nature.~~_

_Despite ~~the anger and the jealousy~~ all the negative feelings, there was always a part of me that ~~loved~~ admired you. You were so kind and gentle; you could make someone’s day with a smile. You could read people with a glance. ~~So, why couldn’t you ever see how much you were hurting me?~~_

_And now I’m rambling to avoid the truth, and feelings are coming out and I don’t know if I want them to; I bet Eugene would laugh if he were to ever read this. ~~And on the odd chance that you are reading this now, I suggest you go dig yourself a hole in the woods, lay back and relax; I’ll be by soon to fill it in~~. I can hear him now: ‘Wow, Cassandra, your thoughts are more twisted than a neurotic pretzel.’ And he would say my name wrong. Like he always does; he does it on purpose, I’m sure. ~~Dick~~. ~~He’s such a huge part of my problem and, though I loathe to say it, it isn’t even his fault.~~ And he’ll keel over laughing. And I won’t. And he’ll insist that it’s because my sense of humour is as non-existent as Shorty’s second pair of underwear._

~~~~_I’ve spent far too many nights without sleep to keep insisting that I’m not fucked up – that this isn’t a major issue. It is; I am. Too many nights I’ve spent thinking of what I want to ~~do to you, Rapunzel and it sickens me to face you the next day like I haven’t dreamt of performing obscenities with you the night before~~ tell you. You’ll never look at me the same way again; you’ll cringe under my eye and wrap your arms around yourself in some vain attempt to ~~shield yourself from my fucking degeneracy~~ hide from my thoughts._

~~~~_Sometimes, I desire to take from you as much as I wish to give you. ~~You’re so goddamn frustrating.~~ And lately, I feel like I am constantly caught between wanting to ~~kiss you and kill you~~ ~~fuck you and throttle you~~ hug you close or hurt you. And I know I’ve done so much of the latter recently that I can never hope to do the former without feeling as though you’ve lost your marbles. I know you’ve ~~deliberated~~ ~~consulted~~ ~~fought on my behalf~~ spoken to your parents about me. And I know they’re willing to ~~excuse~~ completely overlook all of my transgressions for the simple price of an apology. I know you were unwilling for any harsher action to be taken and I can’t stand that, even after everything, you would ask that of them. I know you don’t want me gone – that you, nor your parents will ever make that decision. And so, I’ve made it for you. I need to leave. You have thus relinquished your control over my punishment; I shall exile myself from Corona, if you will not do it. ~~~~_

_So, fuck it. If I’m leaving, who gives a damn? I’ll tell you. And even if you choose to say it back, it’ll never be enough because ~~I’m terrible and greedy and it’ll never mean what I want it to mean~~ it’ll never sound the way I want it to sound. I want too much from you and I’m a shit for kidding myself into thinking that saying it will make it better – alleviate the pain somehow; it won’t. So, I’ll say it. I’ll find you before I leave and I’ll say it; to part having told my truth, I can part an honest woman. And then I’ll be gone, and you can count your lucky stars you’ll never have to see me again; you’ll never have to decipher the true meaning of the truth I’ve given you._

_So, I suppose I’ll still be a rotten liar; you’ll never truly know, and I shall never have truly told you the true extent of my truth. And by now, I’m aware I’ve used far too many variations of the word ‘true’ far too many times; the irony is not lost on me. Ah well, who’s counting._

_Yours Truly,_

_Cassandra_

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. I wrote it. I shared it. I'm not entirely happy with it but I've written it now and it seems pointless not to share. It was partly inspired by a chapter in 'you stay with the earth (cause you don't understand that i would rather freeze)' by love_killed_the_superstar. Maybe you enjoyed it, maybe you didn't. But this was written more for myself than anyone else, so...
> 
> Cass is just a sad gay lady. She just needs cuddles.


End file.
